


On Top

by Amuly



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:05:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiglitz catches Wicki with Utivich, angry!Stiglitz (as if there was another kind) comes out, and decides to remind Wicki who he's with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Top

            Stiglitz finished sharpening his knife on his strap. Sheathing it, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He tapped it against the back of his hand – made the cigarette last longer and burn cleaner, packing the tobacco. Fuck knows he needed to make his cigarettes last as long as possible out here; they weren’t doled out as rations to the Basterds the way they were to Sergeants in Hitler’s army.

            Lighting the cigarette, Stiglitz took a deep drag before standing, exhaling as he straightened. He stretched and looked around: no Wicki. Stiglitz’s face creased further into a frown than usual. Sniffing the air for a moment, Stiglitz picked up on the smell of cheap Austrian cigarettes. Heading away from camp to the east, Stiglitz followed the faint smell in the air.

            About a hundred meters from the campsite, Stiglitz didn’t need to follow the faint smell of Austrian tobacco on the air anymore. Instead, he could hear distant little moaning noises that he knew belonged to Wicki. He himself had wrung those noises out of Wicki on more than one occasion. Frowning, Stiglitz flicked his cigarette to the ground and pulled out his knife. He thought he recognized those noises, but he was here, and Wicki was over there. Therefore, those noises couldn’t be what he thought they were. Wicki could be injured, waylaid by some Nazi scout.

            Stiglitz pressed his back against a tree and counted silently in his head. “Eins, zwei, drei." /One, two, three./ Cautiously, Stiglitz leaned his head around the trunk of the tree. Whatever he was expecting – Wicki jerking himself, Wicki being tortured by a Nazi – it wasn’t this.

            With their backs to Stiglitz stood Wicki and Utivich. Wicki had both palms pressed up against a tree, ass presented to Utivich. And Utivich, for his part, was pounding into that ass furiously. Stiglitz felt his grip tighten on his knife as his ears filled with the sounds of those two. His vision tunneled in for a moment, and before he knew what he was doing he was across the clearing, throwing Utivich on the ground, knife at his throat. Stiglitz heard a strangled cry behind him, but he didn’t look around. All he could see was Utivich’s face in front of him, lips swollen, wide eyes blinking away the last traces of lust. “Was zur Hölle machst du da? Was soll die Scheiße? Wilhelm gehört mir. Mir, du kleines Stück Scheiße!” /What the fuck do you think you’re doing? What the fuck? Wilhelm is mine. Mine, you little piece of shit!/

            Stiglitz’s fingers tightened involuntarily around Utivich’s throat, and he saw that fear flicker in his eyes. That moment of doubt, when Utivich thought that Stiglitz just might kill him. Stiglitz grinned and leaned more of his weight onto Utivich’s throat. Teach this little kid what was required to fuck his Wicki. _His_ Wicki…

            “Hugo! Hugo! Scheiße, Hugo, runter von ihm. Du wirst ihn noch umbringen, lass ihn los!" /Hugo! Hugo! Fuck, Hugo, get off of him. You’re going to kill him, get off!/

            Stiglitz felt Wicki’s arms trying to pull him off Utivich, but he wouldn’t budge. He was taking his time, enjoying the slow discoloration of Utivich’s lips as he struggled more and more to suck some oxygen into his lungs. “Fühlst du das, Utivich? Versuchst du, noch mehr zu blasen? Du brauchst vielleicht noch ein bisschen Übung fürs Blasen anstatt fürs Ficken, du kleine Hure. Ich allein darf Wilhelm ficken, verstanden?" /You feel that, Utivich? You trying to suck some more? Maybe you need some practice sucking, you little whore, instead of fucking. I get to fuck Wilhelm, understood?/ Stiglitz switched out of German for a moment. “Wilhelm. Is. Mine.”

            A sharp pain blossomed on the side of Stiglitz’s face and he rolled off of Utivich. Wicki was on top of him, and punched him one more time for good measure. Stiglitz laughed up at Wicki, grinning around the pain from his split lip. “Was, du entscheidest dich jetzt dafür, dir Eier wachsen zu lassen, Wilhelm? Hattest vorher anscheinend keine. Du lässt dich von mir ficken, du lässt dich vom kleinen Schwanzlutscher Utivich ficken… denke, dass macht dich zur Teamschlampe, oder?" /What, now you decide to grow some balls Wilhelm? Didn’t seem to have any before. You let me fuck you, you let that little cock-sucker Utivich fuck you…think that makes you the team bitch, doesn’t it?/

            Stiglitz watched as the expression on Wicki’s face turned from pissed off to sympathetic. “Du verstehst nicht, Hugo. Er brauchte jemanden zum Ficken. Er ist ein Kind, er fühlte sich wie ein Mädchen, wenn er gefickt wurde. Ich dachte, er fühlt sich besser, wenn er mal Top sein darf." /You don’t understand, Hugo. He needed someone to fuck. He’s a kid, he felt like a girl, getting fucked. I thought he’d feel better if he got to be on top…/

            Stiglitz stood up in disgust, easily shrugging Wicki off. “Fick dich. Fickt euch beide, is mir scheißegal.” /Go fuck yourself. Go fuck each other, I don’t care./ As he walked away Stiglitz noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Utivich had buttoned himself back up and was leaning against the tree, hand rubbing his throat gingerly. Stiglitz threw a sneer in his direction, then stomped back to camp, lighting another cigarette as he went.

            He could hear Wicki trailing after him, keeping a safe distance but not leaving him alone. Stiglitz growled, deep in his throat. He didn’t need to deal with this shit. Wilhelm was a convenient fuck, a fellow soldier who spoke German amongst this gang of Americans. Stiglitz just didn’t much like the thought of other guys sticking their dicks in what was his, that was all.

            Stiglitz threw himself down on a log around the campsite fire and finished his cigarette, moodily staring into the fire. Wicki sat on the other end of the log: not close enough to touch, but close. He remained silent for a few minutes more, waiting for Wicki to make the first move. Fuck knew that Stiglitz could stay quiet. After all, Wicki was the one who had some explaining to do, something to stay. It was pretty obvious Stiglitz’s feelings on the matter; he didn’t need to say anything else.

            Twenty minutes, and one more cigarette later, Wicki spoke. “/Hugo…/”

            Stiglitz stared ahead. Utivich had wandered back to the campsite at some point, and was sitting with Ulmer now, on the other side of the fire. From Stiglitz’s position, it had looked like Ulmer had asked about the finger shaped bruises blossoming around Utivich’s throat, and was quickly silenced by a curt word and a look from Utivich.

            “Hugo, I habs dir bereits gesagt. Utivich wollte Top sein, er war es satt, Bottom zu sein. Und scheiße, du weißt Donny würde ihn nie lassen, und er wusste, dass ich mich von dir ficken lasse, also…" /Hugo, I already told you. Utivich wanted to top, he was sick of bottoming. And fuck knows Donny wasn’t about to let him, and he knew that I let you fuck me, so -/

            Stiglitz glanced over at Wicki. The look on his face was enough to clamp Wicki’s mouth shut. “Du dich von mir ficken lässt? Mich lässt? Ich dachte, es gefällt dir." /You let me fuck you? ‘Let’ me? I thought you liked it./

            Wicki blinked. Apparently it had never occurred to him that Stiglitz might actually care about what he thought. Stiglitz grunted. Fucking Wicki. Wasn’t like he was _that_ much of a bastard, damn it. He had some sense of propriety. Wicki was a good man, standing up for his tribe and country and everything. Stiglitz killed those Nazi bastards because…well, they weren’t good men. “Ich hab dich nie gezwungen. Ich würd dich niemals zwingen.” /I never forced you. I never thought I forced you./

            Without waiting to hear a response from Wicki, Stiglitz stood up and walked over to Utivich. He smirked when Utivich cringed away from him, ever so slightly. Still, the kid had balls. Jut his chin out, looked up at Stiglitz. “What do you want?”

            “You are able to have him.” Stiglitz grunted out.

            Utivich blinked up at Stiglitz, seemingly not comprehending. Then his eyes left Stiglitz’s face and focused on something behind him. Stiglitz turned around and saw Wicki walking up behind him. “Was willst du?” /What do you want?/

            Wicki waited a beat, then his fist flew out and connected with Stiglitz’s nose. Stiglitz let his head jerk back with the impact, but otherwise didn’t move. After a moment he twisted his neck, cracking it. He shouted at Wicki. “Scheiße, das ist das dritte Mal heute. Ich sollte derjenige sein, der dich schlägt.” /Fuck, that’s the third time today. I should be the one hitting you./

            By now, most of the Basterds had turned to look at their German-speaking residents. Stiglitz and Wicki pointedly ignored them. “Das ist für den Versuch, mich weiterzureichen als wär ich das Eigentum von irgendjemandem, du verdammter Idiot. Hast du irgendetwas von dem gehört, was ich heute gesagt hab? Ich hab Utivich n Gefallen getan. Weil er mir leid tat. Du… von dir lass ich mich ficken, weil es mir gefällt und du weißt, wie du mich ficken must, bis ich Hitler vergesse, den Krieg, selbst meinen eigenen Namen." /That’s for you trying to give me away like I’m some sort of property, you fucking idiot. Have you heard anything I’ve said today? I was doing Utivich a _favor_. Because I felt _sorry_ for him. You, you I let fuck me because I like it and you know how to fuck my ass until I forget Hitler, the war, even my own fucking name./ Wicki grabbed Stiglitz’s arms, and Stiglitz decided to let him, rather than shoulder him off. “Verstehst du? Utivich war ein Gnadenfick. Ich gehör dir.” /Do you understand? Utivich was a pity fuck; I’m yours./ Wicki looked around, a little self conscious. “Außerdem… er ist wahrscheinlich großartig beim Blasen. Ich dachte mir, ein Gefallen für ihn reicht vielleicht weiter…" /Plus, he probably gives great head. I figured one favor to him might go a long way…/

            Wicki trailed off, and Stiglitz swallowed thickly. Wicki’s voice, that gravely odd-accented voice, went straight to his groin every time. Utivich was still staring up at them, squinting. Bookworm was probably trying to sort through the mess of German he had just heard, picking apart his name and the few words he knew.

            Stiglitz leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of Wicki’s shirt. For a moment they just stood there: nose-to-nose, Stiglitz taking in Wicki’s pupils, dilated with arousal, his breath coming in little puffs, and the heat coming off of Wicki’s groin. Stiglitz licked his lips and bared his teeth. “Ein Gnadenfick?” /A pity-fuck?/ Wicki nodded slowly. “Heut nacht. Heut nacht fick ich dich so hart, dass du den kleinen Jungen sofort vergisst. Okay?" /Tonight. Tonight I fuck you so hard you forget all about that little boy. Alright?/ Again, that slow, slight nod. Stiglitz kept them pressed together for a moment longer, letting his eyes roam down Wicki’s body, pressed up against him.

            Then, just as abruptly as he had grabbed him, Stiglitz shoved Wicki away, storming off to the other side of camp. The rest of the Basterds that had gathered around the two of them in a loose circle dispersed. Stiglitz caught a snippet of a loud comment from Donowitz, something like “I know a few of those words, and fuck knows the only words I know in any language are, well, fucking words, you know…”

            Stiglitz sat back down on his log and took out his knife. Carefully he unrolled his strap, then set himself to concentrating on the swish-slide of sharpening his knife. He felt more than saw Wicki sit down on the same log as him a few minutes later. He continued to sharpen his knife, even as he knew Wicki was just sitting there, staring at him. _Swish-slide. Swish-slide. Swish-slide.  
_

**

            An hour after dinner Donowitz was standing watch over on the west end of camp, where the high ground was. Stiglitz had long since sheathed his knife and was lying in his bedding, waiting for the rest of the Basterds’ breathing to even out. He was a patient man, when he had to be. When the rest of the Basterds appeared asleep, Stiglitz rolled himself out of bed and stalked off to the east; didn’t need fucking Donowitz getting any ideas in that thick skull of his.

            As he walked, a second set of footsteps joined his, crunching over leaves behind him. Stiglitz allowed himself a small, slightly murderous grin. Wicki wasn’t going to forget tonight. Not if Stiglitz had any say in it.

            Rounding a bend in the natural rows of trees, Stiglitz slipped behind one and waited. Twenty seconds later, Wicki walked past him in the darkness. Stiglitz snapped out an arm and, lighting quick, shoved Wicki against the tree, knife at his throat. Wicki swallowed, looking down at the knife. A moment later he seemed to regain control over his natural instincts, and his eyes slid closed. Stiglitz could feel the tension incrementally decrease in the body he had shoved himself against.

            “Du hast noch eine Lektion zu lernen.” /You need to learn a lesson./ He growled. Wicki nodded, almost imperceptibly. Stiglitz grabbed Wicki by the hair and banged his head against the tree, knife just millimeters away from piercing the rough stubble on Wicki’s throat. “Antworte mir, wenn ich mit dir spreche!” /Answer me when I speak to you!/

            “Ja.” Stiglitz licked his lips and slowly looked down at Wicki. Now that they were alone he had time to appreciate it. As he stared at his knifed pressed into the stubble on Wicki’s throat his breath came in quicker bursts. Wicki must have sensed this, because he shifted slightly, pressing his hips into Stiglitz’s growing arousal. Stiglitz shoved Wicki into the tree, letting his knife prick the skin ever so slightly, so a drop of blood welled up from the point of contact. “Du bewegst dich erst, wenn ich es dir sage.” /You move when I tell you to./ He growled.

            Wicki hissed at the feel of the knife biting into him, but stilled himself. “Ja.” Stiglitz groaned at Wicki’s gravely voice, drawing out that single syllable like he was running his tongue over his cock…

            Stiglitz had enough of this foreplay. Sheathing his knife, he shoved Wicki around roughly. Wicki’s hands were already flying over the buttons on his pants and yanking them down. Stiglitz was too preoccupied with removing his own swollen cock from his pants to chastise him. Instead he shoved his hand in front of Wicki’s mouth. “Blas mir einen.” /Suck./

            Wicki eagerly complied, taking Stiglitz’s whole hand into his mouth, coating every finger and the palm with saliva, practically deep-throating the fingers. Stiglitz groaned and leaned his head against Wicki’s back, awkwardly smearing precome down his cock with his left hand. “Okay, okay, das reicht.” /Alright, alright, enough./ Stiglitz extracted his hand from Wicki’s mouth and took himself into his hand. He roughly jerked himself a few times, vaguely making sure he was decently coated before lining himself up behind Wicki’s ass. “Du bist noch weit von vorhin, oder, Schlampe? Werd dich nicht vorbereiten. Hast was zu lernen…" /You’re loose from earlier, aren’t you, slut? Not going to prepare you. Need to learn…/ Stiglitz thrust himself into Wicki with one jerk of his hips. Wicki groaned and tightened around him, fingers scrambling over the bark of the tree, chest heaving.

            Stiglitz kept his forehead pressed down on Wicki’s shoulders, breathing deeply. No matter what Wicki had done earlier today, he was still so fucking tight, and with no preparation it took all of Stiglitz’s self control to not have this end prematurely. After all, Wicki needed to learn a lesson. Stiglitz pulled himself almost completely out, then shoved himself back in. Wicki’s hands scrambled against the tree again as a gasp escaped his lips. “Wie fühlt sich das an, Wilhelm?” /How’s it feel, Wilhelm?/ Pulled out, thrust back in again. "Konnte er’s dir so besorgen?“ /Could he do this to you?/ Out, then in. “Konnte er dich so fühlen lassen?” /Could he make you feel like this?/

            Wicki was shaking his head, breath coming in throaty gasps as Stiglitz pounded into him. Stiglitz raised a hand and slapped Wicki across the ass. “Was hab ich gesagt? Antworte mir, wenn ich mit dir spreche!" /What did I say? Answer me when I speak to you!/

            Wicki gasped, shuddering with the effort to remain in control. ““Nein, nein. Nie, nur du…” /Nein, Nein. Never, only you…/

            Stiglitz straightened, satisfied with Wicki’s response. He gripped Wicki by the hips, letting himself go as he thrust mercilessly into him. He could tell Wicki wanted to jerk himself off, but his hands remained firmly on the tree trunk, apparently afraid that Stiglitz would punish him some more.

            Through a haze of sex and lust, Stiglitz heard a twig snap over to their side. Not stopping fucking Wicki, Stiglitz turned his head to look. There, coming out from behind a tree, was that little boy Utivich. Stiglitz grunted. “Sieht so aus, als wollte er sehen, wie es ausschaut, wenn er fickt.” /Looks like he wanted to see what a man looks like when he fucks./

            Beneath him, Wicki turned his head until he caught sight of Utivich. He shook his head and turned it back to its former position, hanging down between his arms. “Is mir egal. Ich brauch dich zum Ficken, nur dich…” /Don’t care. Need you to fuck me, only you…/

            Stiglitz ran rough hands down Wicki’s back under his shirt, grunting as he came to a decision. “Du warst brav. Zeit für deine Belohnung.” /You’ve been good. Time for a reward./ Stiglitz turned to Utivich and whistled. “Come over. You are able to suck Wilhelm. Blow job.” Donowitz was right: the first words you learn in any language were the dirty ones.

            Utivich slowly approached, and Stiglitz growled. “Quicker. Or we will be finished.” He laughed, thrusting particularly firmly into Wicki on that note. Wicki keened under him, rubbing his face up against his own sleeve.

            Utivich got the message, and stumbled over in his haste. He dropped to his knees in front of Wicki, his back to the tree that Wicki was supporting himself with. Stiglitz stared down at Utivich, who glanced up at him nervously. Stiglitz nodded. “Suck.” Utivich licked his lips, then quickly wrapped his hand around the base of Wicki’s erection before slipping his lips over the head.

            Beneath him, Wicki shuddered and moaned. “Magst du deine Belohnung, Wilhelm?” /You like your reward, Wilhelm?/

            Wicki nodded before remembering. “Ja, ja ja…”

            Stiglitz tightened his grip on Wicki’s hips. “Aber wem gehörst du?” /But who do you belong to?/

            “Nur dir, Hugo. Nur dir.” /You, Hugo. Only you./ Stiglitz bared his teeth in some semblance of a smile. He looked over Wicki’s shoulder at Utivich, who was having a hell of a time bobbing his head in time to Stiglitz’s thrusts. Amused, Stiglitz thrust his hips forward particularly forcefully, just to watch Utivich gag and choke on Wicki’s cock as it thrust into the back of his throat. Stiglitz grunted happily and thrust hard a few more times, watching as tears welled up in Utivich’s eyes. Practically felt like he was skull-fucking Utivich, from his position.

            Focused on watching Wicki’s cock appear and disappear into Utivich’s mouth, Stiglitz forgot the effect he was having on Wicki. Before he expected it, Wicki’s body shuddered beneath him, and his ass clamped down on Stiglitz cock, almost bringing him to the edge with the tightness of it. Stiglitz paused in his thrusts as Wicki emptied himself into Utivich’s mouth. “Schluck’s runter.” /Swallow./ Stiglitz didn’t know the English word, but a look from him and Utivich got the idea. He swallowed down Wicki’s come, even lapping at Wicki’s sated cock to get every last bit. Stiglitz groaned at the sight, and started thrusting into Wicki with renewed vigor. He vaguely noticed Utivich slinking to the side and sliding a hand down his pants to finish himself off. Good, the little boy didn’t deserve better.

            Stiglitz leaned forward, pressing his lips onto Wicki’s neck as his thrusts grew more erratic. It wasn’t kissing, what he was doing. He just needed more contact, wanted to touch every inch of himself to Wicki, inside and out. Stiglitz groaned and dragged a rough hand under Wicki’s shirt, up and down his sweat-soaked chest. “Mein...” he grumbled into Wicki’s neck.

            Wicki leaned his head back, giving Stiglitz more skin to explore. "Nur dein." /Yours./ And there it was again. That gravely voice that drew out the two syllables, going straight to his groin. Stiglitz came, gritting his teeth and jerking into Wicki, emptying himself.

            They stood there for a moment, panting and recovering from their orgasms. Eventually Stiglitz pulled out, a great deal more gently than he had started this. Both men pulled up their pants and tucked themselves back in. Stiglitz finished first, then leaned forward to help Wicki re-button where his shirt had come undone, and tuck his shirt back in. Without warning, Wicki pulled him down into a fierce kiss, full of tongue and teeth and suction. Stiglitz kissed him back, then pulled away.

            Utivich was still there. He had apparently orgasmed at some point, because he was standing to the side, hands in his pockets and pants buttoned up. “Lag ich richtig? Hat er dir gut einen geblasen?” /Were you right? Did he give a good blowjob?/

            Wicki laughed and shook his head. “Er war ganz gut, wenn du auf die schüchterne Art stehst.” /He was fine, if you like timid./” Wicki shot Stiglitz a sidelong glance. “Ich steh aber nicht auf die schüchterne Art." /But I don’t like timid./

            Stiglitz grunted, somewhat embarrassed by Wicki’s confession. He nodded at Utivich. “You understand? Mine.”

            Utivich shrugged, looking Stiglitz in the eye. “Hey, I got to fuck him and suck him. And Donny’ll probably fuck me before he goes to bed. Good day, by my count.”

            Stiglitz narrowed his eyes and started forward. Wicki beat him to it though, swinging a mean right hook that landed solidly on Utivich’s eye. Utivich went down, clutching his eye. “Fuck!”

            Wicki nodded down at Utivich. “Last time I give you a pity fuck. Komm schon, Hugo." /Come on, Hugo./

            Wicki nodded back at the campsite, then strolled past Stiglitz, expecting him to follow. Stiglitz did, but not before glancing down at Utivich, who sat grinning on the ground. After all that, why did it feel like Utivich had come out on top?


End file.
